​MEANDERTHALS​

When travellin’ the highway they call The BruceYou’ll see wallabies, galahs and maybe a gooseThings that put a smile on a tired driver’s dialAs he – or she – ticks off each eye-weary mile

Up ahead through the haze, that summer day shimmerThere’s something moving, you catch just a glimmerYou spit out a curse – SHIT! – ’cos you ain’t too enthralledIt’s a slow-movin’ line of tarmacadam meanderthals

On the back of the vans they write their namesBewdy, mate, now we know who to blameThe line of Viscounts and Majestics snakes on foreverAnd here I am stuck behind Ann and Trevor

From where I sit, your Jayco, has got a broad arseI could check out the rest if you’d just let me pass’Cos that’s the rub grey nomads, you pensioner pioneersWe only ever get to see your motor homes’ rears.

The Bedouins of the bitumen have all the time to roamImpatient drivers, behind, just wanna get homeSnailing along slowly going out of our brainsHow far is it now, to the next passing lane?

* getty images

Little villages would survive if your money went aroundBut you pull up overnight in a layby out of townWould it hurt, for a treat, every once in a whileTo pay for a van park, give the owner a smile

And when you do spend, it’s at the chain storesNot at the small shops, which are begging for moreYou use discount fuel coupons at Colesworths-owned stationsThose greedy bastards’ll be the death of our nation.

Spent the night in a motel, and got up real earlyWanted to get a good start ahead of Bob and ShirleyI spy a steep hill. Gawd, that’s all I need!Come on Nev, give it a rev - you’re at stalling speed

Bloke oughta get a CB, tune in to the codesAnd join in the chatter up and down the roadsThen message I’d give is: Listen up, mate:Bloody well pull over … and let us overtake!